DISCOVERY: Book Hangover

You’re an escape artist in reverse. You dive into the printed words on a page and POOF! the world around you disappears. Fiction becomes reality, the impossible becomes possible, and while mere hours pass between the words It was a dark and stormy night and The End, you’ve lived an entire lifetime’s worth of adventure and heartache and romance and fear and laughter and relief and…

and…

Well, and then it’s over. The dishes need done and the dog needs fed and the kids wonder what’s for dinner and nobody knows that just moments ago you were living in the world of an Amazonian queen fighting not only for her true love but for her entire tribe and quite possibly the fate of the universe.

Book hangovers are brutal.

Know what you need? Another book. Check these out:

MULTIPLE MOTIVES by Kassandra Lamb

12669863_733474386789911_1217681277_oPsychotherapist Kate Huntington helps other people cope with the horrible things that have happened to them, but she herself has led a charmed life… until now. When a series of what seem like random events–a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time–takes a sinister twist, it becomes apparent that she and her lawyer friend, Rob Franklin, have a common enemy. But the lead police detective has a different theory. He’s convinced Kate and Rob are lovers attempting to eliminate their spouses. And he seems determined to build a case against them.

As the attacks escalate, Kate and Rob are forced to investigate on their own. Who hates them enough to want them both dead? And doesn’t seem to mind if others get caught in the crossfire!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

71iMJzLzpTLIn her youth, Kassandra Lamb had to decide which of her two greatest passions, writing or psychology, she would pursue as a career. Being partial to food, heat and electricity, she opted for psychology. Now that she’s retired from her career as a psychotherapist, she can focus on creating an alternate universe in which her protagonist, Kate Huntington, is always the kind, generous and insightful person that Kassandra wishes she was herself.

When she’s not at her computer, transported in mind and spirit into the world of her characters, Kassandra physically lives in Florida and Maryland, with her husband and her Alaskan Husky, Amelia.

Kassandra was born in Baltimore and lived in Maryland for the first 50 years of her life. Like Kate Huntington, she was a specialist in trauma recovery for two decades. She also taught psychology at Towson University and still teaches part-time in Florida.

You can grab MULTIPLE MOTIVES for free here (click away, darlings)!

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BECOMING (The Balance Bringer Chronicles Book 1) by Debra Kristi

515AdNeyBcL._UY250_(2015 Indie Excellence Award Finalist, 2015 IAN Book of the Year Award Finalist, 2015 Best Indie Book Award Finalist, 2015 Writer’s Digest Honorable Mention)

Ana’s world is falling apart. What she thought were dreams start entering her waking life. Eerie shadows hunt her. Her dream guy becomes reality. And strange new abilities begin developing. Ana is becoming something other.

She is determined to find answers, but where to turn? Her mom and best friend are keeping secrets. Her older sister is dead and exists only in her dreams. And her younger sister thinks they are goddesses.

Above all else, dark forces will stop at nothing to crush Ana – to keep her from restoring balance. To keep her from… becoming.

Is love and blood and sisterhood enough to stop the dark secrets and power from destroying her?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

71czC2iGIgL._UX250_Debra Kristi lives in sunny California with her husband, two kids, and four schizophrenic cats. Her love for the fantastical began at a very young age, when her imagination magically transformed the backyard swing set into the U.S.S. Enterprise. Since then she’s had a lifelong love of science fiction, fantasy, and creative storytelling. Unlike the characters she often writes, Debra is not immortal and her only superpower is letting the dishes and laundry pile up. When not writing, she is usually creating memories with her family, geeking out to sci-fi and fantasy television, and tossing out movie quotes.

Click here to pick up BECOMING: The Balance Bringer!

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PHOENIX CHILD (Book One of the Children of Fire Series) by Alica McKenna-Johnson

51Bd4t+Wz-L._UY250_There should be a law, a Universal Rule, as to how much weirdness can happen to a person.

Fifteen-year-old Sara walks into the San Francisco Center for the Circus Arts determined to ignore the freaky things happening to her. As powers she doesn’t want and can’t control overwhelm her, Sara must decide if she can trust the strangers who say they are her family … descended from a common ancestor four thousand years ago.

Sara clings to her contented and well-planned life as a foster kid, successfully working the system, as dreams, powers, and magical creatures drag her towards her destiny.
When the ancient evil that killed her parents comes to San Francisco, Sara is forced to choose between her fears and her desire to protect those she loves.

Sometimes great things are thrust upon us. Sara wishes this supposed ‘greatness’ didn’t include a new name, unicorns, and catching on fire.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

31jDvVkWZ-L._UX250_Being told she was a horrible speller and would never learn to use a comma correctly, Alica never thought to write down the stories she constantly had running through her head. Doesn’t everyone daydream about flying on a spaceship while walking to school?
Not until she was thirty did Alica dare to write down any of the people living exciting lives in her head. The relief was instantaneous. By giving them life on the page they could be released from her mind and given greater adventures.

As her books grew in size and the voices in her head learned to wait their turn, Alica found a loyal group to journey with. Women who would help her slay her commas, and use their magical gifts to traverse plot holes, transform words into their proper spelling, and release characters from any Mary Sue spells they might be under.

In-between magical adventures, Alica is mom to two personal kids, five foster kids, has one exceptional hubby, a bunny she knows is plotting her death, and some fish, aka her daughter’s minions.

You can pick up PHOENIX CHILD here for free!

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As always, loads of love,

teal

UNEDITED LINES

From Book Four. Tally-ho!

About a week into their journey they stopped at a low outcropping of rocks to make camp for the night. As was their routine, Helena was led off the wagon to a place farther from where the rest of them camped—within sight, but out of earshot if they kept their voices low. There she was secured somehow—tied to a tree, or to a stake pounded into the ground. Tonight it was a stake.

Helena’s silent and willing acquiescence to this routine was as disturbing to Aydan as ever. There was no defeat in her posture—no slumped shoulders, no softness in the lines of her mouth. Her back was as straight as a dancer’s, her shoulders squared and set, her lips pressed into a firm line. Even so, there was never any sign of a desire to escape. It didn’t make sense, and Aydan didn’t like it.

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As always, loads of love,

pink

p.s. Meow

TRUE STORY: Mean Girls and Revelations

Two of my kids–both boys, and both, in my opinion, are some of the finest boys on the planet–are navigating the choppy waters of middle school.

Normally I don’t blog about them. They’re getting older, and sometimes their friends–or their friend’s parents, or their teachers–read my blog, and it feels like a little invasion of privacy for their mom to talk candidly about their lives as  young men. So I usually stick to my littlest’s stories, and occasionally her older sister.

But middle school, man. It’s a tough gig.

My boys are artistic. They’re clever. They’re kind. They’re sarcastic. They’re loyal. They’re hardworking. They’re musical. They’re hilarious.

And oh my God, they’re the target of mean girls. Not just mean girls, but mean middle school girls. Let’s all have a moment of silence about that. Because mean middle school girls are the worst.

On the drive home from the bus stop, each kid has to tell me three good things about their day before anything else. After we’ve relived the positive, we move on to the tougher spots of the last ten hours. My oldest often says things like Nothing worth mentioning, Mom. Just the usual. He’s learning to let the shitty stuff roll off his back. I’m so proud of him–that’s super hard to do. It’s tougher for his younger brother. He’s just learning the art of ignoring haters, and he’s a little more sensitive, so it’s a struggle.

One particular drive home he was describing the recess scene to me, and it’s identical to almost every day prior. Mean girl seeks him out at recess. Mean girl proceeds to tear him down in a gross, underhanded and expertly played fashion. My boy is left wondering if maybe he really is stupid, and gross, and dumb for liking stuffed animals and Star Wars and for having angel kisses on his face.

Ugh.

And then David Bowie died. Thomas and I were talking about him at the kitchen table–about who he was a person, who he was as an artist. The boys were listening in, like they often do, taking in more than I give them credit for.

The next day in the car, the kids told me three positive things about their days, and then my son said,

“I thought about David Bowie a lot today. About how he was just who he was, and that he wasn’t afraid to be who God created him to be, even though so many people thought he was weird at first. And I thought about how because he was okay with being who God made him to be, and because he tried to be the best at just being himself, that he made a difference with his art.”

“That’s good stuff.” I said it softly, but inside I was bursting with pride.

“I want to be like that.”

“Me, too, kiddo.”

“I don’t want to wear make-up, though.”

“You don’t have to. That was his thing, sometimes. It doesn’t have to be yours.”

He turned and stared out the window at the passing cars and buildings and trees and telephone poles, disappearing into the thoughts inside his head. Still waters run deep.

TRUE STORY: Sometimes the mean girls help us see the David Bowie in ourselves.

green

p.s. Sleep tight, Starman.